Faith in the Dark | How I Found Light in My Hardest Year

For seven months, I was unhoused in Los Angeles. I bounced between Airbnbs, hotels, house-sitting, and sometimes cars. I caught buses super late at night, walked miles to work, and sometimes, I’d rent a car just to have somewhere to sleep whenever I was tired of paying $150 a night for a hotel. 

I often rented a room in a shared house via Airbnb from a guy named Alex who was the kindest, and sometimes felt heaven sent from the way he'd randomly text me, "hey, do you want to stay longer? I'll save the room for you at a much lower price."  Lord knew my wallet needed a break.

While in these spaces, I would stare at the ceiling (or out a car window), wondering how long I could keep this up. Every day felt like a battle between survival and purpose. I believed I was strong enough to endure it, but the weight of it all—the uncertainty, the loneliness, the exhaustion—was crushing.

Then things started to hit even harder. My storage unit was broken into, and everything I had worked for—my music equipment, my clothing line materials and more was gone. At the same time, I was losing the people closest to me. My Aunt passed (my grandmother's sister). Then my Uncle (my mom's brother). They were my anchors connecting me back home to DC, the ones I kept in touch with most.  It was in these moments, alone in a city where I felt attacked, that I asked myself the hardest question: Was holding on worth it anymore? Actually, the question I often asked was, What the F**k was I doing?

To be clear, being unhoused was something I was forced into. I would apply for apartments left and right and all I would get is—you don't make 3x the rent (apartments started at $1900 minimum), the market is competitive right now and we went with someone else, or could you get a co-signer? 

For the longest time, I thought staying in LA was proof of my resilience. That leaving meant I had failed. But my body started telling me a different story. I'd visit my doctor because I wasn't feeling the best. I spent weeks bouncing between doctor’s appointments, CT scans, ultrasounds, blood tests, just to find out several things at different times— liver and kidney cysts, intestinal tract was inflamed, and asthmatic allergies. Stress had to have been making me sick, right? What else could it be? I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained.

That’s when I started to surrender.

Not in a "giving up" way, but in letting go. Letting go of my timeline, my expectations, and my pride.

The BreakThough

One day a sermon from an unknown pastor (unknown to me) popped up on my Youtube while I was walking to work. The title connected with what I felt at the time so I clicked it. I began tuning into his sermons everyday since then, and something shifted. For the first time, I felt like I didn’t have to carry it all alone. I didn’t have to force things to happen. I just had to trust.

I left LA to take a break and go home. Spend much needed time with family and celebrate the holidays. And for the first time in over a year, I could relax and breathe. What I thought would be a temporary break and then going back to "try again and figure things out", turned into 4 months later, I have an apartment in my hometown. I have a car. I feel healthy again. I've connected and re-connected with people who love me. But more than anything, I feel at peace with a closer spiritual connection. I’m not in fight-or-flight mode anymore. And what I’ve learned through all of this is simple:

Sometimes, holding on is not strength, letting go is.

A message to you

Surrendering isn’t failure. It’s trust. Trust that what is meant for you will not require you to destroy yourself to keep it. Trust that God’s plan is bigger than your understanding. Trust that peace is not something you earn through struggle, but something you allow yourself to step into.

So, if you’re in a season of exhaustion and fighting battles no one sees, or holding on because you think you have to, ask yourself this: Should I be fighting harder or surrendering? What if the surrender is the beginning of something greater?

Struggle sometimes make us believe we’re alone in our suffering, but the truth is, we all experience seasons of loss, confusion, and exhaustion. What matters most is how we choose to respond to those seasons. Will we fight for something that is breaking us? Or will we surrender and trust that something better is ahead?

Sometimes we attach our value to persistence, to making things happen no matter what. That's what we're taught. But I believe that sometimes, the greatest act of courage isn’t in fighting harder—it’s in allowing ourselves to step back and reassess.

Because what if the dream you’re holding onto isn’t meant to be fought for in this way?

Letting go may be the real way forward.

Peace.

written by Morgan | @MORGANtheCEO